


Rehabilitating Ghosts

by Argxntxm



Category: Original Work
Genre: Concerned son, Ghosts, Ghosts everywhere!, Like an old lady that takes in stray cats, Mother hoards ghosts and haunted objects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 10:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9652085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argxntxm/pseuds/Argxntxm
Summary: Damien's mother used to be a witch, but since she's stopped practising she started to take in ghosts by purchasing and gathering haunted objects and giving the ghosts a nice place to live. She's taken in quite a few.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, I got this idea from a post on tumblr of ebay reviews where people were purchasing haunted objects so they could care for the ghosts and I immediately thought of my rp character Damien and his mother Rosemary.  
> I really liked this and since my rp blog is on hiatus I decided to post it on here.

Damien frowned as he watched his mother open yet another package. At first, he had thought the whole thing quite humorous and let his mother purchase whatever items she wanted from the internet but now it was starting to get quite concerning. 

His mother didn't really practice magic anymore. She mostly just went and made potions and such with the flowers she grew in their small backyard and that was it. Sometimes she would cast magic to teach him something, maybe make a few hex bags if he had something he needed help warding or just something simple for everyday life like changing the color of the walls or couch. But nothing really serious. She liked to say she was retired from being a witch. 

And like all retired old ladies (she wasn't old but she sometimes acted like she was) she decided to take in strays. But she didn't take in cats. She took in ghosts. 

As a child, it had been quite terrifying. Rosemary had gotten a hold of a haunted walking stick that had the spirit of an old Irish made attached to it had put it away in the spare room along with a jewellery box which had a young girl spirit come with it. Damien hadn't been intune with what he was yet so he had been startled. The little girl had liked to laugh and move his toys around, trying to get him to play with her but it had just freaked him out. And the old man always teased and scared him for the fun of it. 

When he started to get older it got to the point that he couldn't sleep unless one of the ghosts was messing around. Moving things or speaking quietly just out of reach for him to make out what they were saying but just enough to be a murmur carried by the AC. 

There was the woman whose spirit was attached to an old Chine dish that his mother kept on display but never used. The frayed old yellowing tarot deck that belonged to a family that had been on the run several centuries ago that taught him a few tricks. The mother and baby that had arrived when his mother bought a quilt from a yard sale by the old hospital. The striking young man that had owned the rifle a friend had dropped by when they had realized something was off about it. 

There were several ghosts and spirits that hung around the house. It wasn't ever crowded. They didn't all hang out in the same plane of the house at the same time. Ghosts were like that. 

Some of them were just voices, others were just images, some were both. Some would hide as soon as they were spotted and others would wait to be seen. They all had different personalities and Damien knew all of them pretty well. He could have told you life stories about just about all of them.  
The objects they were linked to all stayed protected and cared for. Most of them staying in the spare room, put away neatly so they could be admired, but never messed with. When they had company over, which wasn't a lot, they usually kept that room locked so no one would go inside. 

But the room had a lot in it and Damien had started to grow concerned. Like an old woman taking in stray cats, his mother was starting to get a lot of stray ghosts. She was good at finding ones that weren't' dangerous or evil, but still, some didn't get along with others and the last thing the young live man wanted was their belongings ending up everywhere after a ghost war. 

This time it had been an ornate hairbrush that had two twin sisters attached to it. They were around his mother's age, maybe a few years younger, and they looked just alike except for the color of their dresses. It was hard to tell since they were pretty see through, but he assumed one was in yellow and the other in pink. They smiled as Rosemary put the brush away with all the other beauty supplies she had gotten in the room. 

"That nice soldier boy will really try to whoo you two!", she had grinned at the two women who both giggled like they were school girls. For a moment Damien briefly wondered where the soldier boy was, glancing over his shoulder, curious if he was around or had vanished for the day. When the moment of curiosity vanished he turned back to his mother who was starting to walk out of the room. He followed after her. 

"Mom. Are you sure we need to take in more?",he glanced back once more, seeing the two twin sisters chatting excitedly to each other. He couldn't make out what they were saying, the only sound the soft cold breeze that ghosts sometimes let loose when speaking. When he turned his attention back to his mother he stopped walking, almost running into her back. 

She had her arms crossed over her chest, a finger tapping her chin, showing that she was thinking about what he had said. The young man's eyebrows knit together as he watched her, trying to figure out if she was mad at him or not. He didn't usually talk back to her or try to stop her from doing anything, he wasn't that stupid, but still. That fear was always in the back of his mind. He really didn't want to upset her. He was just concerned with the space in their small home. And god forbid there was ever a fire. All those poor souls his mother took in. Gone. 

"You think there are too many?" His mother turned to him, her hand leaving her chin to tuck itself into her arms like her other, concern clear on her face. The look made him feel a bit bad for having asked the question, but he felt like he had to. If she kept getting more objects he wasn't sure if the house would be alright. There had to be a limit to these types of things. Like some committee would drop by and tell her she had reached the max of ghosts she could have in the house. He sighed. 

He nodded, "You're happy doing this, I know, but it's getting a bit cramped. Sooner or later you've going to have that room full or just end up getting a war on your hands. I'm pretty sure you don't want to have Amityville playing out in real life." Objects everywhere. Ectoplasm all over the walls. Screams and yelling instead of the murmuring he was so used to. And he couldn't forget the bloody messages that sometimes decorated walls. And the possession. He shuddered at that thought. "Please."

His mother sighed and dropped her arms by her side, defeated. She understood what he was getting out and he was pleased. He was just trying to look out for her. And a bit himself since he lived there too, but he wasn't going to play that card if he valued his life. "I suppose you do have a point." She shook her head as she started to head into the kitchen, "I'll stop." 

Damien was glad she agreed, able to relax a little. The ghosts they had lived in their home were fine. They didn't have anything worry about. He was sure that none of them would turn on them. And if they did he was certain they would most likely have moved on by then, the object in someone else's possession or lost. A sad sentiment, but it was something that made him feel a bit better at least. 

No new objects arrived in the mail and nothing new was bought for some time and he was relieved. The twin sisters that had accompanied the brush were fitting in quite nicely with everyone else and the soldier boy had indeed been taking it upon himself to flirt with both of them. The soft cool air and murmur of faint voices were welcoming for the hot summer day and after making sure nothing was damaged because the heat sometimes got pretty bad at times he relaxed on the couch and turned on the tv to see what was on. He had decided on some show that he had seen quite a bit so he wouldn't have to really pay attention when he heard the giggling. 

Now, giggling wasn't a new thing, with all the little kids that lived in the house it was normal, but there was something about this particular giggle that set him on edge. It even silenced a lot of the murmuring. Just dead silence and that giggle. Damien wanted to throw the remote, starting to realize that his mother hadn't heeded what he had said. So he got up and walked to the front door and opened it. 

Left on the doorstep was a package like all the others, labelled nicely and addressed to his mother. He sighed as he picked it up, trying to figure what was inside to bring such a spirit to their home. The spirit was a faint shadow in the corner of his eye, any time he turned to look at it it would vanish. He could tell it was a child from the giggle, but that was all he could tell and it irritated him. He pondered what story his mother had been told to cause her to purchase whatever lie in the box.


End file.
